My native-born Las Vegas mates panic that we’re losing it. I see their anger spiking in Fb discussions and unfurling throughout Twitter threads. They inveigh against the new substantial-occupancy lanes on Interstate fifteen against the paid out parking at casinos against the way our skilled sports activities franchises are pushing UNLV’s legacy basketball workforce off the front page.

“This isn’t the Vegas I grew up with,” a person claimed, bitterly. “I do not even identify this city anymore.”

I recognize their aggravation, but I do not sense it as deeply as they do, partially for the reason that I’m not

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